Bus Stop
by clearly-opaque
Summary: Oneshot;; The events which happen when two rivals end up waiting at the same bench, one cloudy morning. Arthur wishes that Francis would leave Alfred and Matthew out of it.


**Bus Stop**

Arthur was never really one for public transportation. That was not to say that he didn't love his people. It was just that sometimes he was embarrassed. Not of them, no, he was fond of them far too much for that. He was merely embarrassed for them. And it became more humiliating as technology grew and their relationships with each other became more and more shallow.

It wasn't even as though his people were the only ones. Every nation had a similar change through the years, but for some reason, Arthur couldn't help but to be embarrassed for _all_ of them. Nevertheless it was inevitable that he would have to take a bus on occasion. His car was in the shop and the only option to his empty stomach and refrigerator was to make his way to the corner bus stop to get to the closest half-decent grocer's.

He took a seat on the bench, although it was slightly wet from rainfall. A little water never hurt, right? He never looked next to him, but he assumed the other occupant of the bench was a teenage girl. The sound of fingers gave it away, fingers tapping away at her blueberry or whatever fruit they're naming phones after these days.

He did look, however, once he heard a familiar male laugh. "Francis? What on earth are you…" Arthur gave his fellow nation a look of disgust, not anything new for these two rivals.

"Oh, you're wondering why I'm here, I'm sure," Francis smiled, amused, taking notice at the man in front of him after staring at a small screen from quite some time.

"I'm more interested in why you're even using that…that _thing,_" he said, eyeing the gadget the man held with even more distaste than he showed its owner.

"Oh, this?" Francis held it up, and as he did, it made a small beeping noise. Automatically, he responded with more tapping of fingers. Arthur sighed.

"Of course _you_ would be swept up in the latest craze or whatever's deemed 'cool' nowadays. _I_, however have too much self respect to—"

"I'm texting Alfred, you know," Francis said matter-of-factly. _That_ shut Arthur up, piquing his interest.

"Really? What did he say?" The dynamic change of expression from disgust to curiosity was rather humorous, or at least Francis though so and made it a point to laugh loudly. Arthur's expression changed again, and it was less than pleased.

"Oh, I'm sure _you'd_ like to know, you little letch," Francis mumbled, tapping in another message absentmindedly. Arthur sputtered out, shocked that Francis would even assume such a thing.

"Of-of course I'm not attracted to, he's practically a member of my family, how could you even suggest that I might find him—"

"Methinks thou dost protest too much," Francis quoted, twisting one of his own writer's words against him. "Not that I judge you. Ah, your secret's safe with me, mon ami!" That was the final straw.

"Y-you wanker!" Arthur cried out, knocking the strawberry whatever out of the other's hands, dropping in the street. Both men watched as the stream of water near the sidewalk picked up the object, swiftly carrying it into the nearest drain. Both were silent for what felt like a century.

Francis spoke first, chuckling softly, "Why is it that you won't have me have nice things, mon cher?" Arthur looked at him, puzzled. Francis only laughed harder, producing an identical raspberry thing from his pocket. The laughter stopped as he took a moment to resume the infernal tapping.

Arthur's anger got the better of him and the two set in a second bout of silence. Yet again, the clicking of buttons got the best of him and he felt a need to mute out the noise. "So why _are_ you here? Not that I care at all…I mean—"

The tapping stopped, thank goodness, and Francis put the device back in his pocket, a double blessing. "Well, since you're _oh so interested,_ I'm meeting Alfred and Matthew, who insisted on _your capital_ of all places. I do wonder why they didn't invite _you, _Angleterre. This is your city, is it not?"

"Maybe they assumed I had something better to do!" Arthur retorted resisting the sudden urge to knock the man to the curbside as well. Instead, he merely clenched his fists, trying his best to remain placid.

"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think that both brothers liked _me_ best. Why else would one of them kick you to the curbside as soon as it was convenient and the other use French as an official language, even while being a colony of yours?" Arthur glared, his patience running thin quickly. Francis always seemed to know what to say to hit below the belt.

"Oh. Is that so? Anything else you'd like to add?" Arthur asked. It was not an invitation to say more. It was a dare. A challenge. Because it was obvious what would follow if he continued. Either Francis missed the memo or he was on a masochistic streak, because he went on anyway.

"Why yes." Arthur's eyes narrowed. "I also find it humorous how Alfred tries to be as anti-_you_ as possible. How many wars have you two gotten into? Two? And you even made his brother burn down the White House. And then you ignore poor Matthew, even if he does everything you say. Nothing more clearly says 'deadbeat Dad' than that."

"If I remember correctly, you gave him to me," Arthur responded through gritted teeth. "You think you'd have done a better job raising them?"

"But of course. Unlike _you, _I don't have empty nest syndrome," France said matter-of-factly, withdrawing the phone from his pocket again. That blasted phone. Arthur made a note to destroy this one as well later.

"Oh, really, now?" By now, it took all the strength he could muster to restrain himself from killing the man next to him.

"Why yes, and, may I add, I wouldn't have lusted after them, either. I may be a little, ah, loose in morals, but I wouldn't _dare_ stoop down to that level with you." Arthur wanted no more but to knock that stupid smile off of the git's face. But no, he wouldn't. He was above that. He was above giving in to taunts, better than the French pile of filth in his presence. He didn't need to resort to—

Before either of them knew it, they both ended up on the sidewalk, Francis laughing even as punches were thrown madly at him. Half of them missed, anyway, for Arthur was too angry to remember how to aim. But after a particularly hard hit, Francis began flailing and kicking wildly as well.

The two caused quite a scene, brawling in the middle of a walk way in broad daylight, albeit overcast daylight. Neither realized when two familiar faces approached, each holding an umbrella as it had started to rain a few moments before.

"Found them," Alfred said, unable to hold the surprise on his face at the state they had found them in. "Hey guys, you ready to go?" he asked them, as casually as if the two were merely disputing on the bench nearby.

They stopped mid-brawl, looking up at the twins. By that point, Francis was sporting a bloody nose and Arthur a black eye. And somehow, Francis had found a way to sit on the Englishman, pinning him down. Trying to look as casual as possible in that situation, both tried to look as if Alfred and Matthew had interrupted an important discussion.

Francis got up first, discreetly giving Arthur a subtle kick with his heel as he walked over to the pair. Arthur followed suit, and if looks could kill, Francis would have been six feet under. "You guys go have fun doing whatever nonsense it is you're doing, I got to go," he said stuffily, turning around to talk off.

He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. "I know you're probably really angry at Francis, but that's no reason to ditch _us,_ geez, Artie," America said, rolling his eyes. Behind him, Matthew looked over at his brother guiltily.

"Um…Alfred?" he spoke up, "Arthur never answered my messages. I completely forgot to tell you," he smiled apologetically, holding up a phone almost identical to Francis' pathetic excuse for technology.

"Don't you know how to check your messages, old man?" Alfred asked, joking in a friendly manner. "Why didn't you just ask? No need to beat up Francis to compensate!"

"That's _not_ the reason we were fighting, you dolt!" England said, frowning as he looked through his phone to realize that the Canadian had indeed tried to call him. Twenty two times.

"Then what started it? I bet it was something stupid again, like bringing up past wars and calling each other perverts," Alfred dismissed the question with a laugh. The Europeans exchanged a quick nervous glance and forced a chuckle.

"Let's go, shall we?" Francis announced, eager change the subject. He swung his arm around one of the twin's shoulders not caring in the least which one it was at the time as he started walking.

Arthur followed, grabbing the hand of the other brother as he marched at a brisk to catch up. He dragged Matthew along, who had tripped over his own feet in an effort to keep up.

They must have been an interesting sight; two slightly beaten up men dragging along two younger men, in a much better state. Nobody questioned it when the slightly beaten up man in front's hand moved from his companion's shoulder further south. And in turn, nobody questioned it when the other slightly beaten up man stepped on the first's heel.

What _was_ questionable was how all four watched a bus go by, stopped, and then ran madly after it.


End file.
